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Monthly Archives: August 2014

I feel like Tuesday dinner;Done with Sunday’s leftoversNot yet to the Friday special,Smelling like nothing I want to eat.No warm oven fresh baked bread Cinnamon and blackberry cobbler –This is bland boiled peasAnd too-dry to smell like anything meatsSteaming on my plate, threateningTo taste no better than it smells.

I feel like a seventeen year old’s bedroom;Stale body odor ineffectively maskedBy mother’s pungent lemon-fresh sprayWith hints of acetone and calendula.Window tight shut to keep outThe spring breeze and pine treesAnd fresh-cut grass hiding just outside.What I wish I could show to the worldIs marred by what is actually thereNo matter how I dress it up.

I feel like a beat poetry club;Sweet smoke wafting in the low lights,Air thick with alcohol and sugarIn every breath, sticking to my throat,Filling my head with dizzyAnd my mouth with bad breath.I just want to curl up in bedAnd forget that today ever happened,Start over tomorrow with my new leaf.But I can’t get these smells out of my clothes.

So I’ve been sewing lately, got on a sewing kick and did a few dolls. Which of course means I had to spin a bunch of yarn to make doll hair. But then sort of unexpectedly… this happened: Yep, it’s an octo-mermaid! Or… something. I don’t even know what inspired me, I just got the sudden urge to make an octopus-mermaid hybrid and… did! 😀 Made the ‘necklace’ with shells and beads strung onto wire.

Spun the hair, almost didn’t have enough. That’s all the gold wool I had on hand, but I’m really happy with how the style turned out!

The Machine shone irritatingly from the garden. The morning rays glinted off its copper and glass surface like a second sun, sending beams of light to swirl and dance across the far wall of the library.

“Draw the curtains, will you, darling?” the elderly woman said as she dramatically draped her arm across her eyes, sinking further into her plush chair. “I cannot abide that monstrosity out there.”

From the corner, her husband gave a sympathetic smile and set his beaker down.

“Come now, my dear, come now,” he said as he shuffled across the room. He had the air of one always on the verge of laughter, even when speaking of the most serious of matters. He took his wife’s hand and patted it gently. “The Machine is just doing its job. No need for such distress.”

“Oh, Maltricus,” she bemoaned, “why must we bear it?”

“Drink your tea,” he encouraged, picking up the cup and saucer from the side table. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had your tea.”

She waved the offering away and turned her eyes to the far wall, her voice taking on a far-off quality. “I do not want tea; I want to be free of this place.”

He set the cup down again. “In time, my dear. In time. Do you want to know what I am working on? Would you like to see it?” His eyes glinted excitement, the little wrinkles at their edges growing deeper. Though his wife gave him no reply, he shuffled back to his desk again.

“This,” he said, bending over to gaze at the liquid inside his beaker which caught the light and set it to sparkle, “this will do the trick, I think. Yes, I think it will.”

His wife gave a greatly exaggerated sigh.

“I have bridged the gap, you see? Between the physical reality we live in and the quantum reality that hides beneath.” He used his hands to illustrate, holding one over the other, about an inch apart.

“There are all these realities, all around and under and over and beside us. We cannot perceive them, generally. But this…” he gave a giggle as he swirled the liquid around inside the glass. “this is the bridge. Quite clever, don’t you think, Pari?”

She slowly rolled her head back the other direction and reached for her tea, having never understood anything her husband said. He fussed and fiddled with his machines and his formulas, rambling on and on whether she answered him or not.

Despite his supplications, he did not seem to even notice that she did not relent. Instead she sipped her previously unwanted tea and made sure to give occasional tragic sighs. He turned to open the window which overhung the Machine.

“Now, what I’ll do is- yes, what I’ll do, is pour this solution into the Machine-“

His wife began to hum to drown out his voice. She was still humming as the Machine blew up, sending bits of her husband to swirl and dance across the walls. She set down the teacup and rang the bell until her husband’s assistant arrived.

“Be a darling, mon cher, and fetch Maltricus’ next incarnation. The Machine has blown him up again.”

There was a light breeze playing in the woods, rustling the tree leaves; an echo of birds claiming their territory; a passing car on the distant highway; the crunch of dirt and rocks. And then, there was my mother.

“You know what would be nice to hear once in a while?” she said as we paused.

“Silence?” I suggested, though not terribly hopeful.

“‘Hey, mom,'” she offered, “‘why don’t I take you out to dinner?’ ‘Hey, mom, I just called to hear your voice.’ You know what I hoped for today? ‘Hey, mom, happy birthday.’ But no, I don’t ever get those kinds of phone calls, do I?”

“Maybe you should have had another kid, then,” I said, in no mood to be lectured on familial duties. I took a drink from my flask.

She continued our ‘conversation’ as if I wasn’t actually part of it. “No, I get the 3 AM phone calls, the ‘can you bring the car ’round’ phone calls, the ‘I need a new dump spot, the last one is compromised’ calls.”

She dropped her shovel and waved for the flask. I sighed and handed it over. “Yes, and I pay dearly for it. You make sure of that.”

“Don’t be impertinent, dear,” she said after swallowing.

I tucked the flask back in my pocket, then wiped a rag across my forehead.

“Hey, mom,” I said, voice mockingly sweet, “How about when we’re done here we go out for ice cream and get our nails done?”

“Well, you may have no femininity to speak of,” she huffed, “but a manicure wouldn’t go amiss after this. Just look at my nails.” She held her hand out for me to see the chips in the polish and the dirt caked beneath. “You know, it wouldn’t take much for you to be real pretty.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Can we please just get done!?”

“Why don’t you let me take you shopping? Get you some nice dresses, some make-up-”

“Yeah, but water doesn’t leave incriminating stains on your clothes,” I pointed out.

She pursed her lips. For a few minutes, only the sound of digging passed between us.

“Fine, I’ll get you a manicure when we’re done,” I said. Her silence always made me feel guilty. Lectures and pleadings I could ignore, but silence was her true weapon of evil. Silence got me offering things that I shouldn’t, and got her hopes up for more.

“Oh, manicures! You’ll come, too, of course,” she insisted.

“No.”

“We can make a day of it!”

“No.”

“And then we’ll have brunch at the cafe. I’ll invite May, her son just got out of prison-”

“Nope.”

“We’ll have to buy you some good bras.”

“Not gonna happen,” I said as I put the shovels back in the trunk. She wasn’t listening, as usual.

A friend rings your doorbell way too early in the morning to be ringing doorbells. You answer the door in your PJs, and the friend says, “Pack a bag quickly. I have to get out of here now and need you to come with me.” You are intrigued.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

“Ten minutes,” I said, both of us knowing I would take twenty. I stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, my body trying to move in three directions at once as my brain moved in twelve. Finally they both settled on one at the same time and I ran up the stairs, two at a time.

Fortunately I hadn’t put away my travel bags from my weekend trip to the islands so there was no having to dig them back out of the closet. Unfortunately, I also had not yet done laundry. I pulled my drawers open and stared at their contents, stumped.

“Okay, Micky,” I called down the stairs. “I need input. What am I packing?”

“Warm weather, um… four days?” She paused a moment, then added, “We can do laundry there.”

I grabbed a handful of underwear, three summer shirts, a pair of shorts, and one sweater – just in case. Then I shuffled out of my PJs and stuffed those in as well. Half of what I put in was dirty but the promise of laundry invigorated me to take my favorite shirt from the hamper.

I hesitated beside the bed for a moment before I grabbed my teddy bear and stuffed him in as well. Never know when you might need the moral support.

Back in the living room, I left my bag on the couch as I counted off my fingers of what needed to be done.

“Feed the cats, grab toothbrush and makeup, call my mother- once we’re gone,” I added as she made to object. I looked around again for anything I might be overlooking.

“What about food?” I asked.

“What about clothes?”

I pointed to the bag; she pointed to me. I looked down.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I mean, I suppose I could get dressed,” I said nonchalantly.

“Alright, alright! You get the cooler from the back porch and raid the fridge, I’ll be back down in a minute.”

Armed at last with pants and a proper shirt, I grabbed my purse, shoved a camera into the side-pocket of my travel bag, decided there was nothing to be done about my hair anyway and conceded I was done. We loaded my things into the trunk beside hers and then got in.

“This is what I love about you, Liz,” she said as she put the car in gear and pulled out of the driveway.

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About Eliza, Briefly (also, legal stuff)

Eliza Murdock has lived in Skagit County, Washington all her life. She feels a deep connection to the nature of the Pacific Northwest, the diverse landscapes, the climate, and the unique people. She currently lives at the foot of the Cascade Mountains on a small farm.

She has been writing since before she can remember, having always used stories and poems as a way to both express herself and explore her interactions with the world around her.

While she enjoys many creative hobbies, - gardening, art, painting, embroidery, sewing, spinning yarn, to name just a few - writing is her true passion. With it, she seeks to touch others, to reach out through all this life has to offer, good and bad, and connect to another soul.

*Legal Stuff*

All content of this blog is my original work unless otherwise cited. You are welcome to share but please give proper credit and provide a link to the original post. You are not free to use this work for monetary gain of any kind, or as any inclusion in advertisements for monetary gain of any kind. If anyone is going to make money off of this stuff, it's going to be me, but I like giving stuff away for free so please enjoy!